


Occam's Razor

by Prosodi



Category: Half Moon Investigations
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prosodi/pseuds/Prosodi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fletcher worries about plans for his future after school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occam's Razor

He wants to get in, get out and get on with his life but that's not actually how it works out. There's an unfortunate necessity to attending Jennifer McGuff's 18th birthday party and none of it has anything to do with dancing or sneaking sips from the punchbowl everyone knows it spiked, and entirely to do with the fact that all their suspects will be in one place and easily monitored. It's the perfect setup, even if it means having to listen to thumping music all evening. Fletcher stands with a red cup in his hand and doesn't move from his post in the corner. Two out of the three are in this room and Red, he trusts, is on the heels of their third man. He's confident that by the end of the night they'll not only have the case closed, but be able to locate and return the stolen earrings. He's feeling good about himself despite the headache and the general awkwardness because people keep trying to talk to him and Fletcher doesn't really understand why.

He thinks maybe it's because he's in the same room as the refreshments, that maybe he's just too close to the pretzel bowl, but he navigates his way around to the opposite wall of the room and it keeps happening: randoms sidling up with a 'Hey' or 'Some party' and it isn't until much later that some brunette girl that Fletcher doesn't recognize (and therefore deduces she's probably from a different school, different end of town entirely) and introduces herself a little sloppily that he begins to think he might be getting...chatted up. He runs through a quick inventory, checks himself over when it dawns on him - but no, he's wearing the same kind of thing he always wears. Same dark jeans, dark shirt, but neither worn in a way that could be considered cool or mysterious.

And he isn't used to this sort of attention, doesn't know how to respond to it. Because there's being with the same person for almost all of secondary school, and then there's being hit on by strangers and that's. Well, it's different. When the brunette - Victoria, her name is Victoria which sounds like some kind of perfume brand or lingerie line - laughs at something that is not a joke and touches his elbow Fletcher says the first thing that comes to mind, which is just a vomit of words that roughly equates to 'I have a boyfriend.'

Victoria's hand settles on his elbow. She gives him a surprisingly frank once over given how glassy her eyes are and then she sighs. 'Of course you do,' she says not unkindly and Fletcher starts to suspect she is older than she looks. One of those secondary school graduates who never left Lock and just keeps going to the same parties with the same sorts of people. He shakes her off very quickly and shears off, but can't leave the room because he has a job and no awkward self-consciousness is going to keep him from it.

Later, it is gratifying to know he is right. Red holds a wriggling Dunlap Moore down on Jennifer McGuff's front lawn, a knee in the center of his chest. Dunlap's legs flail around, his heels tearing up the turf. There's a circle of spectators (because nothing changes from first to last years - any kind of physical violence draws an audience). He has strict instructions: Jennifer doesn't want to press charges, just wants her property back, and while it's not the sweetest kind of justice served, it's pretty alright anyway. Dunlap calls uncle after a few crushing moments under the point of Red's knee. It's all over - mark it down for another in the success column in Half Moon Investigations' record book. Afterward, as she puts her earrings back in (Dunlap is an idiot and was keeping them in his car's glove box), Jennifer invites them to stay. Well, specifically, she invites Red to stay. She gives Fletcher a perfunctory thank you and swears she'll settle her bill tomorrow once her birthday money's in the bank and she can write a check. Whatever mystique was catching the attention of the girls from the other end of Lock (and Fletcher likes to think of it as mystique and not novelty) evidently doesn't affect people who know him well.

He isn't bothered by it, but he is glad when Red says 'Sure maybe,' to Jennifer and then - as soon as she's out of earshot - he turns to Fletcher and says, 'Let's get the hell out of here.'

They walk out past the long line of cars down Jennifer McGuff's very long driveway where Red parked his motorcycle. The music is still loud enough to hear, but away from the party it feels colder - less warm bodies. Fletcher stuffs his hands in his pockets. The gravel crunches under their feet. When they get to the motorbike, Red tosses him the helmet underhand which Fletcher catches. He takes a few moments to sort the chin strap, frowns.

'Don't tell me we've missed something,' Red groans, wrestling the motorbike out of the shrubbery.

'What?'

'There are two faces after a case: the we've solved it let's do it face and the it's not adding up let's sit and go over everything for three hours face. Honestly I was kind of hoping for the first one.'

Fletcher pulls the helmet on. He doesn't stop frowning, though he does say 'No, we nailed it. Uh, pun not intended' -- (Red snorts) -- 'It's just.' It's just that in a few months they will both be out of school. Fletcher has only glanced at university and he knows Red hasn't looked at all. And while Fletcher has a pretty penny saved, he doesn't know if it's the kind of money to support a move to somewhere more... well, more than Lock. They have a client base here. Sort of. People know them. But it's not like he grew up thinking he'd be in Lock forever and now, getting ready to finish secondary, he's beginning to realize he doesn't have any real plans for after.

Red is looking at him, wary. Fletcher shrugs. 'Just thinking this might be the last 18 year old girl's birthday we have to go to.'

'Thank fucking god,' Red moans, mounting the motorbike. He pats the seat behind him. 'What's that rule? The stupid answer is probably the right one?'

'It's the simple answer is usually the right one,' Fletcher says, clipping the chin strap on the helmet. 'That's Occam's Razor.'

'Sure alright. Simple is better, so stop being so complicated and get on the damn bike. You're making my head hurt, Half-Moon.'

Fletcher punches him in the shoulder - he punches Red Sharkey in the shoulder - and clambers onto the motorbike behind him. He winds his arms around Red's waist and Red leans back against his chest as he kicks the bike to start, revs the engine a little (which Fletcher is convinced is unnecessary to the fundamental workings of the bike, but isn't going to complain about because it makes the whole frame rumble and the line of Red's forearm when he applies torque to the handle is terribly interesting). If nothing else, Fletcher thinks, he's beginning to feel fairly confident that whatever happens at the end of the year, he won't be facing it alone. So maybe it is exactly what Red wants it to be: simple.


End file.
